July 5, 2024
Of course I have some thoughts about yesterday being July 4th once again, but I really don't know what I'm going to say. It may be disjointed sentences that make no sense, or it might be thoughtful and coherent, but if that happens, I'll be surprised. Let's find out!
This is the 10th year without my mother and it's the 9th memorial I've had for her yearly. It starts at 11pm on July 4 and ends at midnight. I light the same vanilla scented two-wick candle I've had for the past 9 years at 11pm and blow them out at midnight. I've got a play list on my cell phone of 3 of her favorite songs and more songs that remind me of her. I sit in her leather recliner and listen to the playlist and think of her. The only light in the room is from the lit candle. The songs last about 50 to 53 minutes, so I spend the remaining minutes until midnight in silence remembering her and thinking of what a great loss she is to me. She died at 11:58 pm. This I only know because I heard someone say after she took her final breath "what time is it?" and someone answered her "11:58". When I knew she was gone, I laid my head down on her hand which I was still holding and began a deep gut wrenching sob. I wasn't aware of the time and would never have known unless I had heard them say that.
Last night as each song played I paid attention to the time trying to recall what happened when. I just don't recall everything. Maybe that's a good thing. I did notice that last night I was very aware of the depth of the pain of losing her which I haven't been that deeply aware of before. Lives matter. Lives begin and they end. Every life matters. It takes time to process grief especially if it is deep.
As the clock ticked dutifully, perfunctorily, and without any hint of meaning attached to it, as though time matters not - it just is what it is, and I watched as it switched over from 11:57 to 11:58. I wasn't disappointed. Time couldn't care less who was born or who died from one minute to the next, but it matters to me. Then it dutifully became 11:59, but for me time stopped at 11:58pm....2014. Something devastating happened that minute that hour, day, and year - and even 10 years later I'm still processing and working through what happened. It may take forever to work through it.
This time though, at 11:58, I said "goodbye mother" which is something I've not been willing to say until now.
I still miss my mother and my daddy. If I could have them back for 30 minutes, and just share a cup of coffee and talk about things that have happened since they left, that would be wonderful, but I can only wish. Wishing won't make it true. For now, that great divide called death separates us. Still, I'll always miss them.
This is the 10th year without my mother and it's the 9th memorial I've had for her yearly. It starts at 11pm on July 4 and ends at midnight. I light the same vanilla scented two-wick candle I've had for the past 9 years at 11pm and blow them out at midnight. I've got a play list on my cell phone of 3 of her favorite songs and more songs that remind me of her. I sit in her leather recliner and listen to the playlist and think of her. The only light in the room is from the lit candle. The songs last about 50 to 53 minutes, so I spend the remaining minutes until midnight in silence remembering her and thinking of what a great loss she is to me. She died at 11:58 pm. This I only know because I heard someone say after she took her final breath "what time is it?" and someone answered her "11:58". When I knew she was gone, I laid my head down on her hand which I was still holding and began a deep gut wrenching sob. I wasn't aware of the time and would never have known unless I had heard them say that.
Last night as each song played I paid attention to the time trying to recall what happened when. I just don't recall everything. Maybe that's a good thing. I did notice that last night I was very aware of the depth of the pain of losing her which I haven't been that deeply aware of before. Lives matter. Lives begin and they end. Every life matters. It takes time to process grief especially if it is deep.
As the clock ticked dutifully, perfunctorily, and without any hint of meaning attached to it, as though time matters not - it just is what it is, and I watched as it switched over from 11:57 to 11:58. I wasn't disappointed. Time couldn't care less who was born or who died from one minute to the next, but it matters to me. Then it dutifully became 11:59, but for me time stopped at 11:58pm....2014. Something devastating happened that minute that hour, day, and year - and even 10 years later I'm still processing and working through what happened. It may take forever to work through it.
This time though, at 11:58, I said "goodbye mother" which is something I've not been willing to say until now.
I still miss my mother and my daddy. If I could have them back for 30 minutes, and just share a cup of coffee and talk about things that have happened since they left, that would be wonderful, but I can only wish. Wishing won't make it true. For now, that great divide called death separates us. Still, I'll always miss them.